Assisting The Heart
by Forever-Here-Forever-Alone
Summary: Sweeney is back in London, and he has vowed vengance. He ends up meeting a lone boy who comes in for a shave, he decides to take this boy in as his assistant. But what will come of the boy and Sweeney? Sweeney X Made-Up. Yaoi
1. I : Back In London

**Disclaimer** :: I do not own any of the Sweeney Todd locations, characters, or anything of the sort. I just fell in love with the film and decided to make a fan fiction. I am also not making any profit from this.

**Characters** :: Sweeney Todd X Made-Up [Ishmael

**Note** :: This is a Yaoi fan fiction. I have done much research, and it is known that Sweeney would take apprentices if he found himself a boy he was attracted toward. This is going to take place right when Sweeney gets off the boat, so you will have to deal with me explaining him walking along the streets as he did in the film and walk to Mrs. Lovett's pie shop. Also, Ishmael will probably come into the story sometime within chapter two or three. You'll just have to wait.

**Rating** :: NC-17 [For future reference

**_[Read the note before the story!_**

**__**

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The land of London was eerie in the morning mist as the harbor took shape. A low fog resided just above the paved streets, hiding most rats and stray cats of the like from view. Even the small breeze that blew had a feel of common dread and fear about it. The land seemed to be scarce but full of life at the same time. A ship was slowly moving into the harbor, docking just a few moments later as it rested and the platform to let the passengers off lowered.

A man stepped off the ship, his head partly lowered. A dark mist seemed to be about him as he threw a bag over his shoulder, holding the strap firmly in his fingerless gloved hands. His dark eyes slowly lifted as he looked about London, curiosity running over his form like a mothers embrace. It had been fifteen years since he had last seen London. Fifteen long, long years. His black hair, one white streak running from above his left eye, pushed away from his face so he was able to see correctly.

"Mr. Todd…are you going to need a place to stay…" Anthony asked.

Anthony was a sailor by nature. Born and raised in Paris, he came back to London after a visit to Peru. He had taken Sweeney in when he saw the man with nothing but the clothes on his back. After feeding and housing him, they both made their way to London on the ship, intent on doing what they must. When no response came from the man before him, Anthony got a confused look.

"Mr. Todd?"

"Thank you, Anthony. I will depart now. You have my regards. I am in your debt."

Anthony stood there a bit perplexed. He sighed and slowly shook his head as he watched the rather dark looking man start walking away. Sweeney looked about the streets as he walked, his bag thrown over his shoulder still. He couldn't help but look around in slight bewilderment as he remembered the sights and sounds of the city mornings. He could still remember waking up at dawn with his dear Lucy by his side, helping him to prepare for the day ahead.

Sweeney Todd, was in fact, another person. He used to be Benjamin Barker, a local barber whose skill was unmatched. He could give you the perfect shave in a matter of seconds, and only for a penny. It didn't matter if you were rich or not, he didn't need much to run his shop and rarely had to leave. In fact, he only left if Lucy and his baby girl, Johanna, were leaving to go shopping or something.

As he walked the lone streets, Sweeney's eyes darted from place to place. He knew where he was heading, and he was prepared to do whatever he needed to get back there. He could still remember the smells of the city as well; baked pies, roses and daisies, even the smell of the cars that rolled along the streets; if you were wealthy enough to own one. The mans eyes slowly shifted over to where a shop lay, with a building planted over the shop.

It was renamed, but he knew the place extremely well. It was now called _Mrs. Lovett's Pie Shop_, but he knew without a doubt that it was also the place he used to reside. Fifteen years ago he lived in that home with his wife and daughter, and fifteen years ago he was known far and wide. And now, he was to revisit the place, and pray that his friends were still there and waiting for him.

Walking briskly toward the building, Sweeney looked around before slowly opening the door. He spotted a woman at a small bar like area in the center, hitting and banging a rolling pin over what appeared to be dough. One look around told him that his old home had gone to the dumps. He took a slight step forward before shaking his head and deciding to turn back. Until…

"A customer!" The lady spoke, hope shinning in her eyes. "Blimmy me! Come in, come in! What's your hurry? Stay to have one of the worst pies in London."

The woman had taken his arm before he knew what hit him and was pulling him to a small table. Sweeney felt himself pushed to a sitting position and watched as a pie appeared in front of him. He stared down at what was supposed to be a pie and blinked, his eyes narrowing a bit as he rose them to the woman that seemed to still be baking and talking to him at the same time.

"They worst pies in London, those are. Using only pussy cats and toast, but they sell somewhat good, mind you. But money is tight, now a days, with the cost of meat so high."

Sweeney took a bite.

And regretted it.

With a look of utmost disgust, he swallowed and pushed the plate away, trying to swallow the taste out of his mouth. Yes, he would never try the 'worst pies in London' again. Not in his lifetime. He looked around before looking back toward the woman with slight anger and a bit of confusion as she turned and started to fill a mug with water. She was still talking all the while as she walked over and dropped the glass onto the table top, sitting down by him and laying her elbow on the table with head resting in her palm.

"Bad taste I know. Drink up, it should help," She said, smiling toward him. "My names Mrs. Lovett."

Sweeney took a drink and had, yet again, another disgusted look. He tried to swallow the taste down but again it stayed. He really didn't like this taste at all, and wished he hadn't even tried to eat the disgusting looking pie. Mrs. Lovett, as she was called, smiled toward him before standing and quickly brushing off the corset around her waist to get some flour from the front.

"Well…you'll need more than that to get the taste out, luv. Come, I'll give you some gin."

Sweeney nodded before slowly standing up. He walked with her into what appeared to be a living room, much like the one him and Lucy had sat in for hours discussing matters and holding to each other, and sat down. Mrs. Lovett had walked to a small cabinet and poured some gin into a shot glass before walking back and passing it to Sweeney, who took it slowly. He took a sip, and felt the burn in his throat making him wince toward the feel and taste of the liquid.

Mrs. Lovett smiled lightly and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she did so. Sweeney looked toward her, taking another sip and again feeling the burn. He let out a soft cough before narrowing his eyes toward the woman. Mrs. Lovett smiled and slowly leaned back and thought for a few moments before letting out a soft sigh.

"If money is so tight," Sweeney murmured, looking up, "then why not rent out that upstairs bedroom?"

"Well, people think it's haunted. They say, something happened up there; something not very nice."

Sweeney stared toward her quietly before leaning back and thinking. He watched her apprehensively as she fumbled with part of her dress to make sure it looked better than it did at the moment. Sweeney watched her, analyzing the way she moved and the way she acted. He wanted to ensure he knew what she was doing so that he didn't slip up on anything.

"There was a barber and his wife, you see. And one day, a man by the law fell in love with that wife. He accused the barber of false charges, and sent him away for life," Mrs. Lovett murmured. "He tried to court the wife, but she would not come down from her tower. Poor thing. Then one day, she was invited to the mans house for an apology, but there was a ball in masks, you see. And she was confused and drinking. She asked 'Where is Judge Turpin?' but no one responded. But he was there all right.

"Then, the judge assailed her. Poor thing." Mrs. Lovett whispered.

Sweeney got an enraged look and stood up quickly. "No! Would no one, go to her aid?"

Mrs. Lovett looked up in amazement, her mouth slightly open. "So it is you…Benjamin Barker."


	2. II : Unexpected Visitor

"So it is you…Benjamin Barker."

Sweeney got an even more angered look at the name, his hands clenching tightly into fists. "No. That man is dead. The name's Todd now. Sweeney Todd. And he will have his revenge."

Mrs. Lovett stared up at him, watching as his face went from enraged to a bit of a blank stare. He still had a firm glare on his face though. She let out a soft sigh and slowly stood, running her hands over the corset around her mid section to smooth out any wrinkles. She let her hair, as messy as it was, fall over her shoulder somewhat from the pigtail like hair style she had. With a smile, she took Sweeney's hand into her own and started to pull him up the steps.

Sweeney knew very well what was up those steps; knew what was going on. He had used to go up into that room and stay up there for hours at a time to find out more and more about being a barber. At one point he even invited another to teach him. Now…he didn't know what was up there. It could be a completely different room for all he knew. But he had a feeling nothing had changed, and nothing had been touched. His eyes darted for a few moments before he found himself at the door to said room. Mrs. Lovett reached forward, slowly pushing it open before stepping in.

"Don't be shy, come in. Not going to bite." Mrs. Lovett whispered as she started to walk toward the middle of the room.

Sweeney slowly walked into the room, his boots making a soft clunking sound on the ground. He looked about, a small bit of pain coming to his heart. It had been fifteen years, and the place still looked as if it had yet to be touched. As if nothing had changed since he left. He saw a crib in the corner by a broken mirror and slowly approached it, his hands shaking. He reached forward and drew the canopy like thing back, seeing a worn, old doll lying in the crib.

"Mr. Todd."

Sweeney jumped and released the canopy, looking back toward Mrs. Lovett. She was now on the ground, pulling up a piece of floor board. He quickly walked toward her, kneeling in front of her and watching as she pulled out a small black box. His eyes widened a bit as he reached forward, taking it from her and setting it carefully on the ground. He slowly opened the lid, seeing the perfect blades lying within. All eight of them. He felt his heart skip a beat as he reached in, pulling out one of the blades gently and flicking it open, watching as the light caught on the blade and made it all the more shiny.

"My friends…" he whispered softly, practically cradling the blade.

Mrs. Lovett blinked, leaning her head gently up into his shoulder. "I'm your friend too, Mr. Todd."

Sweeney ignored her, lifting the blade and allowing the light to catch it. He smiled, slowly standing and walking toward the square connected windows, his hand lifted toward the air. The blade shimmered. Through it, he saw the reflection of Mrs. Lovett, whom still sat on the ground and stared toward him with admiration and slight annoyance. He ignored her, looking back to t he blade in his hand.

"At last…my arm is complete again." He said, smiling toward the blade. "Leave me."

Mrs. Lovett grunted softly before nodding. She slowly stood, walking out of the room and closing the door softly behind her. It wasn't until she left did Sweeney slowly pull the blade to his chest and cradle it a bit. He smiled, running his finger over the fine silver handle and slowly pulled it away from his chest, closing it and staring toward it.

"Don't worry, you will soon drip precious rubies…you will get what you need." Sweeney whispered.

He turned from the window, walking back to the box and setting the blade back into it. He then picked the blade up and laid it over the vanity mirror that laid against one wall. He smiled and looked around, his smile fading before he slowly started to tidy up, cleaning anything. He wanted to ensure that the place looked somewhat decent. If it wasn't decent, he would never get a man to come into his shop and get a shave…especially not the Judge.

He let out a groan, sitting himself down on a trunk and staring about. He wasn't sure what to do now. He missed his darling Lucy…and his daughter Johanna. He missed the life he had at one point in time. And now he wanted to just disappear into an ibis and try and find out what was going on.

Suddenly, the door was swung open and a figure ran in. The door then was slammed and said figure leaned against it, panting hard. It was a boy. His frame was thin and he had long black hair that reached about to his shoulders. He seemed a bit scared, his breath coming out in thin pants. Sweeney glared slightly before slowly standing. The boy looked up, brilliant blue eyes staring toward him.

"…" Sweeney stared, a questioning look on his face.

"Um…"


	3. III : New Things

_Bleh. Okay. For those of you who think the chapters are short, I apologize. You have to realize, I'm writing this at school during one class period (1:30) and trying to think up plots at the same time…so…you'll have to allow slight shortness compared to other fictions as well as some scenes taking a bit to upload, as I may have to write that at home. Thank you._

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Sweeney stared down at the boy, amazed that he had run into his shop of all places. He blinked, his eyes narrowing dangerously as the boy slowly lowered his eyes to try and avoid Sweeney's gaze. He wasn't very big, about the side of Mrs. Lovett minus the breasts. His hair was dark, black it seemed, and dropped to about his shoulders and hung in front of his face. His skin, pale like paper with, what looked like, the feel of silk. But his eyes were what caught Sweeney's attention. Bright blue, like the summer sky, shimmering with what looked fear and adrenalin.

Sweeney arched one eyebrow, questioning the boy with just a look. He slowly placed the blades in the holsters by his sides and crossed his arms over his chest; his black and white hair lay over his head. His dark eyes skimmed the boy over again before locking with his eyes. He was curious, as to why this boy was doing what he was doing. As to why he was running, and why he had ran into his shop of all places.

The boy didn't move for fear was still struck in his form. He was scared of what lay behind the door, and scared of what was in front of him. He had never seen this man before, and he looked rather scary compared to the other men that he had seen. He gulped down the lump that was forming in his throat and leaned against the door, his body shaking just a bit. It reminded Sweeney of a leaf in the autumn wind.

"…what are you doing in here, lad?" Sweeney murmured, taking a small step toward the boy.

He looked up, his crystal blue eyes still having a bit of fear in them. "I…I was running…from Beatle, sir."

Sweeney raised an eyebrow even higher. Beatle? That sad excuse for a man was chasing a boy around London? For what reason? This boy looked as if he had done nothing wrong and there for could do nothing wrong. It wasn't as if he, the boy, was doing any harm to this large city. He was, after all, just one small boy in a city full of men.

He stared silently, taking another step forward. The boy took a small step back and found himself pressed against the wall. He didn't mean to intrude, but he had. And now that this man before him knew he was running from Beatle, he might as well turn himself in for a right hanging at the gallows. There was no other punishment for what he had done.

"Why is it you're running from Beatle, lad?" Sweeney murmured softly. "And what be your name?"

The boy lifted his head a bit to hold his chin up. He was trying to be bold now? Smooth move.

"I'm running because I insulted Judge Turpin and his way…and my name is Ishmael." The boy said strongly, his words strong.

Sweeney smirked. At least it wasn't some little git he was dealing with. No, this boy had brains and he had looks about him as well. He wasn't some boy who allowed himself to be pushed around, even when fear was about him; even when he could die any moment. He was holding himself high and doing so with great honor.

Ishmael stared Sweeney up and down, taking in the sight of him. The man was particularly scary looking, with the black hair and white stripe pushed back and his obvious rings under his eyes darkening his demeanor greatly. He looked to be a man of little importance, and yet with great power. It was rather shocking how this man looked, and even more shocking that he hadn't been turned in yet.

Sweeney thought for a moment before slowly grabbing the boys wrist. He yanked him from the door, practically flinging him across the room. Ishmael stumbled but grasped onto the wall so he wouldn't fall. He stared toward Sweeney as if he was crazy and looked toward the door. Sweeney slowly peered out the window, his eyes darting around as he tried to figure out where the Beatle was. He spotted the rather stout man and glared, watching him walking away from Fleet Street.

"He is leaving…" Sweeney murmured softly before wheeling around on his heel. "But you, boy, might need some assistance. You will be a wanted man because of your stupidity to spout off your mouth around Beatle. Sit."

Without a moments though, Ishmael plopped himself down in the chair that Sweeney used to sit his customers down. He stared toward Sweeney a bit scared, watching the man pace by the window before walk behind him to the vanity. He was about to lift his head to see what the man was doing when he felt the smoothness of cool metal along his throat. He gulped, sitting perfectly still.

Sweeney smirked and slowly removed the blade of the scissors that he held in his hand from his throat. He grabbed a comb, brushing out the black locks before he measured and started to trim off the hair. Ishmael's eyes shifted toward the falling hair and he gasped, his eyes going a bit wide. The man was cutting his hair off. Cutting it off. Without permission! He glared and quickly tried to pull away but felt Sweeney's hand tighten on his hair. He hissed and sat still once more, allowing his hair to be cut from his head.

By the time Sweeney was finished, he didn't recognize the boy at all. He had cut most the hair off, leaving him with short hair all in one length. It was about an inch or two long. His bangs, which were longer, still hung in front of his eyes but not as badly. He looked like a young boy instead of a boyish girl. Putting the scissors away, he slowly swung the chair around and had the boy look at himself in the mirror.

Ishmael's eyes practically tripled in size. He stared, amazed at the transformation. Was that really him? Had his hair really been so long that a little trim was all it took to change his appearance completely? He slowly reached up, running his fingers slowly through his hair. He couldn't believe his eyes. That small hair cut had changed the way he looked, and he himself didn't recognize him.

"What…how…"

Sweeney smirked as he dusted the hair off of Ishmael's shirt. "Just a trim, but it changes a lot. So, what do you think? You can actually roam the streets now without worrying about Beatle recognizing you."

Ishmael looked up to Sweeney, staring silently. He blinked, a bit of confusion entering his eyes as he slowly lowered them. He was shocked. Such a man was going to help him…had helped him. Amazed, he slowly stood from the chair and looked up at Sweeney. He wasn't sure what to say really. He just stood there, staring silently. Sweeney reached over and took his hand, sighing softly as he pulling him to the door. He dragged the boy out of the upper shop and started down the steps.

Ishmael blinked, staring around as he watched himself being pulled. He looked toward some people and then ducked a bit, knowing they might recognize him as the boy that pushed them out of the way to find a hiding spot. He gulped softly as he walked with Sweeney, his eyes darting from space to space. He soon found himself in the shop, the smell of pies and ale assaulting his nose. He gagged, looking around.

Mrs. Lovett looked up slowly and blinked, staring toward him. "What's this? Where did this lad come from? Peaky little thing 'e is."

Sweeney smirked and looked toward Ishmael. The boy got a somewhat scared look and stared, watching him with light eyes. Sweeney turned back toward Mrs. Lovett and smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"He's my new assistant."


	4. IV : Contests and Purchases

"New assistant? Why do you need an assistant Mr. T?" Mrs. Lovett whispered.

Sweeney ignored the question, looking down to Ishmael. The boy didn't move, only stood where he was as if his feet were rooted to the ground. Sweeney couldn't help but let out a small laugh under his breath before he turned from their view, a firm look on his face. He had to think of a way to get Judge Turpin in his shop, and at the same time make it to where this new lad would be able to learn from what Sweeney did all the time.

Barbering.

Sweeney stood silently for a moment, contemplating what he should do. He could train the boy under him, though it may be a bit…odd. He had never taken an assistant before and starting now would seem different to him, somewhat not normal. Of course, he couldn't just let the boy run free now that he knew who Sweeney was and he was trying to escape Beatle. And Beatle never forgot.

Running his fingers over the pouches at his side that held his blades, Sweeney thought for a split second before turning on his heel and facing the two people in the room. Mrs. Lovett held a rolling pin, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She was, as normal, covered in what seemed to be flour, but no one really knew what that white stuff was. Ishmael still stood where he was, his head slightly lowered and his bangs hanging somewhat in his face as he waited.

Sweeney thought, looking between them before looking to Mrs. Lovett. They had to get some money in, and there was no way in his right mind that he would sell any trinket up in his shop. They were all his memories of his love, Lucy, and of his long lost daughter Johanna. So those were staying. As for Mrs. Lovett's personal items, it didn't seem she had any. And by the looks of Ishmael, he didn't have a penny on him. So, without another thought, Sweeney started toward the door.

"Mr. Todd…where ya goin'?" Mrs. Lovett asked, starting to follow him after setting the rolling pin down.

"Out. Come on Ishmael. You come too. We're going to get us some shillings even if we have to…kill for it." Sweeney murmured.

There was slight hesitation before Ishmael followed. The three of them set off, walking along the streets while skimming some areas. It turned out that a Mr. Pirelli was to be here and was a famous barber. Sweeney scoffed at the thought and pressed through the crowd, ignoring looks of disgust. He continued on, staring up at the stage and the boy that was trying to sell some 'elixir' to the men in the crowd.

He stood for a few minutes, Mrs. Lovett and Ishmael on either side of him. When the bottle of yellow liquid came to his area, he took the lid off and sniffed. Instantly he regretted doing so. The bottle smelled horribly of urine and maybe something more that he couldn't put his finger on. Sweeney shook his head and passed it to Mrs. Lovett.

"What is this?" Sweeney asked.

"What is this?" Mrs. Lovett mocked, almost like a parrot.

"Smells like piss."

"Smells like…ew!"

"This is piss. Piss with ink."

"Wouldn't touch it if I was you, dear."

When the boy heard Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett, he increased his words, trying to get someone to buy 'Pirelli's Magical Elixir' or something of the sort. Sweeney continued his insults, watching as Mrs. Lovett did the same. Ishmael looked between the two and then up toward the boy. They passed a silent moment before he turned his eyes back to Sweeney in slight confusion.

Moments later, a man stepped out, his form tall and thing. He wore purple, a cloak around his shoulders as well. Black hair was parted and slicked to the side, showing a small line of skin where it was parted. He glared down at the audience, skimming the crowd with a look of pure disgust and anger. Sweeney stared back, crossing his arms casually over his chest.

"Who is this, which calls my elixir piss?" Pirelli demanded.

The crowd grew utterly silent.

Sweeney looked around. "I did. I called that thing you call an elixir piss."

Pirelli looked to Sweeney, glaring a challenge toward the man. Sweeney smirked somewhat, slowly walking toward him. The crowd parted for Sweeney, allowing him through as he did so. Sweeney was soon at the stage. He pulled the two blades from the pouches, flicking them open as smoothly as ever. Pirelli eyed him suspiciously before looking down at the blades.

"…what is this?"

"I challenge you Pirelli. I challenge that my blade can shave a man ten times as rough and make him smoother than you can, and faster. If I win, you give me five hundred shillings. If you wish, you get these. They are pure silver, and worth more than five hundred shillings even." Sweeney said, flicking them closed and putting them away.

There was another moment of silence.

"Then let the challenge begin!" Pirelli announced.

Sweeney nodded his head before starting to walk to the stairs. He stepped up them, spotting Beatle and glaring some. He continued on, hearing Pirelli call upon two men to come up for a free shave. He then set out some things and waited silently. Pirelli called upon Beatle to judge the tournament. From the corner of his eyes, he spotted Ishmael slightly move forward, but stay behind Mrs. Lovett. The boy was smart, he would give him that.

Beatle stepped up slowly onto the stage. "On the count of three. One…two…three."

Instantly, Pirelli started to sharpen the blade, being non to careful of what he was doing or the harm he was causing the boy who held the leather. Sweeney picked the leather that was strapped to his pants up, holding it as he gently ran the blade up and down six times on each side. By the time he was done, Pirelli had applied the shaving cream over the mans face sloppily and was starting to shave him. Sweeney, on the other hand, was taking his time. He started to apply the cream slowly, carefully. It was just his way of doing things. Pirelli was already half finished. Sweeney stepped in front of the man, eyeing him before, in a swift five strokes, he had him shaved. Not a scratch on him. Beatle stared before clicking the watch to stop.

"The winner…is Sweeney Todd!"

Pirelli looked up and glared, pure venom shooting from his eyes. Sweeney glanced up from cleaning his blades before putting them away. He held his gloved hand out, waiting. There was a moment of silence before Pirelli passed the money into Sweeney's hand and smirked. Sweeney walked off the stage, heading back to Mrs. Lovett and Ishmael. Pirelli was shouting something, hitting the boy toward the back room at the same time. When he got to Mrs. Lovett, she was murmuring about how she didn't like seeing a boy being abused.

Sweeney looked to Ishmael; whom had a look of awe and horror on his face. Eyes narrowing, Sweeney looked behind himself to find Beatle approaching. He stared, waiting silently before seeing Beatle staring up at him with interest. Ishmael shied away, moving behind Mrs. Lovett and looking around to act like he wasn't interested.

"That was a good shave you did, Mr. Todd." Beatle said.

Sweeney nodded, "Stop by sometime. I'll give you the closest shave you've ever had."

Beatle smirked and nodded. "Will do. Good day, Mr. Todd."

Sweeney nodded, slowly turning around and facing the two. He stared toward them before nodding his head and starting off. Ishmael was first to follow, right on his heels like a puppy while Mrs. Lovett started to walk behind them, trying to catch up to Sweeney. Ishmael looked around, noticing where they were. He looked up, seeing a smith shop not far in front of them. Sweeney walked into it, looking around slowly before approaching the man.

They spoke for a few moments, Sweeney asking what they could do and the smith nodding his head and explaining. Sweeney took a form from him, filling it out before passing some coins into the mans hand. They exchanged a few more words before he walked back to Ishmael and Mrs. Lovett, a sheet of paper in his hand. He held it out to Ishmael watching as the boy took and got a confused look.

"What is this?"

"Your receipt. I ordered you a set of six blades. If you are to work under me, you are to have your own set of blades. They'll be in in one week. So you better remember to pick them up. Understood?"

Ishmael nodded, slowly looking up to Sweeney. This man was doing so much for him. And he would work his best to make what they were doing right. He was going to end up being the best barber London had ever known, whether he hurt himself while doing so or not. Sweeney smirked down at him, reaching forward and ruffling his hair only slightly before he turned and started back to the shop, Mrs. Lovett and Ishmael by his side.


End file.
